Blank
by our dancing days
Summary: The day before his eleventh birthday, Harry Potter was captured from the suburbs of Surrey, England, and now, with the help of his "superhero" friends, he has to find the nerve to escape. And things tend to explode when Harry gets brave. / au.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Blank

**Pairings: **Unknown, but not part of the main plot. (HPDM or HPGW?) All other pairings _will _be canon.

**Summary: **The day before his eleventh birthday, Harry Potter was captured from the suburbs of Surrey, England, and now, with the help of his practically-superhero friends, he has to find the nerve to escape. Things tend to explode when Harry gets brave. Superpower fic, with original twists. AU.

**Notes: **This is your classic, over-done, teaching-an-old-dog-new-tricks superpower fanfic, based on Harry's generation. Roll with me here.

I'm going to attempt not to make this into X-Men, or Marvel comics, or Gone - possibly in vain, but we can hope, right? X-Men is what happens when people with strange powers, or "mutants", are rescued by a kindly professor person. Most fanfictions going along this line turn Professor X into Professor Dumbledore, understandably.

This is what happens when wizards with strange powers are captured by the wrong person. Enjoy?

P.S There are three sections to this chapter, each jumping around in time. The first section is present-day, the second section is a newspaper article from 1981, and the third section is set three years ago. The chapters won't usually jump around as much, but I wanted to get those three scenes in here.

Oh, and read the author's note at the bottom. It will help. _A lot. _

* * *

"Patient 7: Harry James Potter. Test 83B, commencing in three... two... one..." The robotic female voice may have continued there rather than broken off, but you would have never heard it over the sound of Harry's cries.

He was falling. Falling until the ceiling was a white dot in the distance and the metal ropes around his arms and legs snapped. He could see the walls closing in around him, but they were stark white, visible, touchable. Breakable.

He hummed a note - a seemingly innocent, seemingly insane note - and the walls cracked and bent and returned to their normal shape. Harry could breathe again.

"Test 83B: complete. Results: unsuccessful."

"I don't understand!" A high, male voice screeched from somewhere unseen as Harry writhed and attempted to even out his breathing on the cold table grounding him to the real world. "It should have provoked a reaction here as well as in the delusion - why _not?" _

"Patient 7's statistics are mostly stable. Physical: normal. Heart rate: rapid. Vitals: normal. Possible remaining damage. Patient 7 showing signs of mental distress and trauma. Test 83B: unsuccessful."

"We heard you the first time, you moronic bint!" The same wizard yelled to the automated system that Harry presumed was projecting the robotic voice into the room.

"I don't understand it," he muttered, a few beeping sounds sounding from behind a distant wall. "All of the other test subjects responded to powerful emotions - any emotions, come to that! Happiness, arousal, pain, fear... He used to be like that, but with no control. We're only asking him to break the table, for Merlin's sake! It's the last stage!"

"We can try a different sensation," a smooth, silky voice drawled from somewhere else near the first man. Harry's ears perked up at this - any information, any hint to what the next torture would be, would help him. Help him cope. Help him remember.

"Oh?" The first wizard asked with interest, a few clicking sounds that Harry presumed to be buttons echoing in the silence.

"You're focusing too much on the clichéd fears. Heights, death, confined spaces... let's try something a bit different."

"You know, this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't kept him separate from the others for _three years, _letting Bella mould him into the son she never wanted by locking him away and working on the others so that he could be her metaphorical _atomic bomb. _He's learnt _too_ much control. He's holding back."

"I would be careful about what I was saying, if I were you. Our darling Bella has a habit of listening in where she's _not wanted. _Start the test."

"Patient 7," the first man spoke into the microphone that was connected to the room. Harry closed his eyes in response. "We're asking you nicely this time. Control your power. Twist it. Don't hold it back." He gave an impatient sigh when Harry blinked. "Alright, let's go." He pressed a button.

"Patient 7, test 14G, commencing in three... two... one..."

Harry was standing in bright light. Just light. There wasn't anything there, though. That was as bad as darkness. Darkness just meant _nothing. _And if this was Heaven, and all it was was nothingness but lighter, who was he to fear Hell? No. No, he had to get out of here. He had to get out. He had to escape. He could take darkness, if he reached out his fingers and felt something, _anything, _but nothing?

He couldn't take that.

So he didn't hum a little note, or whisper a lullaby. Harry screamed. He screamed a long, harsh note that manipulated the light and twisted it, broke it.

Outside the room, behind a pane of glass protected with a dozen wards and spells or more, two wizards watched the equipment and furniture being flung across the room with varying degrees of satisfaction.

The first wizard did a little gig when the table snapped in half.

"Test 14G: complete. Results: highly successful. Patient's 7's statistics are stable. Physical: normal. Heart rate: normal. Vitals: normal. No remaining damage. 14G: highly successful," the voice droned over the intercom that none of the wizards could see.

"We've done it, Lucius," the first man gushed, pressing one hand against the window and staring at the boy slumped against the broken slate of a table.

"Indeed, Rodolphus," the second man, Lucius Malfoy, nodded dispassionately. "Will he finally be ready to join the others?"

"Oh yes," Rodolphus breathed.

On the table, fourteen year old Harry slipped away from consciousness and back into his unending dream of darkness and a lone, tuneless note.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

**The Daily Prophet  
****1****st**** November, 1981**

**SIRIUS BLACK SHOWS HIS TRUE COLOURS.**

**The body of Lily Potter, Healer, was found last night outside a warehouse in Muggle London. Her son, Harry, was taken by her murderer and family friend, Sirius Black, and was later rescued by Aurors who arrived shortly on the scene.**

"**It was a tragic loss," Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold, reported earlier today. "Mrs Potter was believed to have been captured along with her son after the death of her husband two weeks ago. **

"**It was confirmed that Peter Pettigrew, another best friend of the Potters, attempted to confront Black but was killed in the resulting crossfire. Bellatrix Lestrange and her associates pleaded that they were under the effects of the Imperius Curse, and were found not guilty. They will be on probation, but otherwise will not be punished for their wrongdoings under the Unforgivable." **

**Black has been found guilty and will be spending the remainder of his life in Azkaban. **

**Harry, under the command of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has been sent to live with Muggle relatives in hope that he finds a normal and loving life with them. **

**Professor Dumbledore was unavailable for comment. **

**By Rita Skeeter, Reporter of the Daily Prophet. **

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Harry had been kidnapped when he was a day away from eleven years old, from the suburbs of Surrey, England. _They _had heard of a boy a little less than normal - of course, this was a lie. He was furthest thing from normal. Harry Potter was a wizard.

He hadn't yet come to this conclusion - living in a cupboard, he didn't get out much, and when he did, he wouldn't be able to tell a wizard from a Muggle anyway.

And, to top it all off, Harry wasn't even a normal wizard, which he didn't know either.

Everything so far had been an accident - usually when in the facinity of his aunt and uncle, when he dared to be a little bit louder, a little bit braver. Things tended to explode when Harry decided to find his inner courage.

But _they _had been searching the area for a few weeks when they came across Harry sitting on a curb on the path, happily picking at a daisy; happy to be out of Number 4, Privet Drive, that is.

"Hello," they had said silkily, Harry remembered. He had been told to say no to strangers, like all school children, but like most school children, he appeared to ignore this in favour of the ice cream hanging in front of his gawping face. He hadn't had ice cream in years.

"Is that... is that strawberry?" Harry whispered. He had been told to talk quietly, naturally, but nowadays, it was a necessity.

If he talked too loudly, things had a habit of... not going to plan.

"Yes, it is," a soft, female voice said lovingly. Harry looked up to find beautiful, dark grey eyes staring down at him. "Can you tell us your name?"

"I-I'm Harry P-Potter," he stuttered, his voice still barely above a whisper. The woman - probably in her thirties - held out a perfectly manicured hand and Harry shook it, feeling very official and grown up. He smiled shyly up at her, and her grin widened.

"I'm Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry," Bellatrix told him, sitting beside him on the curb. "And I can help you."

Harry's ears perked up at this. Help. It was a word he had heard about, one he had longed for, but no one had ever offered to him. He took a lick of the ice cream and almost moaned in delight.

"Help me?" He echoed.

"Yes, Harry," Bellatrix soothed, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Have you ever thought of anything you did as strange? Maybe... abnormal?" Harry nodded eagerly. "Have you ever had anything like that that you can... control?"

Harry nodded again. "My voice," he murmured. "Sometimes, if I speak too loudly, things... move..."

Bellatrix grinned up at her male companions. "Boys, I think we've got a live one."

The men all laughed, and Harry looked between them, bewildered.

"Harry, would you like to get away from your family? We could take you to a place where people have the same talents as you, the same abnormalities. We could help you and _save _you, Harry. All you have to do is say yes."

"Would my uncle and aunt be okay?" Harry asked nervously.

"They'll be fine, my dear. But you will be better."

"Okay," he nodded. Bellatrix leaned forward, as though she couldn't hear what he was saying. "Okay!" He repeated, daring for his voice to be a bit louder this time, with more enthusiasm. The cement beneath them seemed to rumble and quake.

"What was _that?" _A tall, dark haired man shouted, gripping onto Bellatrix's forearm. "Bella, what the _fuck _was that?"

"That, Rodolphus," Bellatrix whispered, standing up elegantly like a panther unfurling, beaming down at Harry on the curb, "was our new little protégé." That was when her hand gripped his forearm, pulling him close. "Would you like to see a magic trick, Harry?"

He shook his head. He wouldn't like to see a magic trick. Magic tricks meant bad things; the Dursleys had taught him that. The air around them grew cold.

"Oh, come on now," Bellatrix said harshly, pulling Harry's face closer to her's. He whimpered. "Don't be like that. We just want to play, don't we, boys?" She looked up at the men, two of which gave sick smiles.

"Stop messing around, Bellatrix," a shorter, blonde man said bluntly, not at all smiling. "We've got work to do with this one."

"Oh," she pouted, "are you going to deny me my fun, Lucius? I don't think that would be a very good idea. In fact, if Harry here is number 7, why don't we make your son number 8? Didn't you say you were worried about his growing abilities? I'm sure Draco would _blossom _at our institute." She smirked.

"You... you wouldn't," the man named Lucius stuttered, his pale face now almost colourless.

"No. I wouldn't have." Bellatrix grinned. "But then you went and insulted me. So now I will."

"You can't... my only son, Bellatrix, my only heir..."

"Do you not trust our program, Lucius? He will be... how do you say? _Taken care of." _She laughed at the look on his face as Harry watched on, eyes wide. "Oh, it won't happen just yet, Lucius, but don't worry. In time... I'm sure he'll be a great asset to our cause."

"No, no, please..." Lucius begged.

"_Silencio," _Bellatrix muttered, rendering the man silent before slashing what looked like a wooden stick through the air and causing Lucius to fall to his knees. Harry whimpered. "Ungrateful mutt," she purred.

"What are you going to do with me? I'm Harry. Just Harry. I'm not a number."

"Oh!" She said with glee, tucking a nail under Harry's chin and raising his head. "Rodolphus, I believe we have a little Gryffindor here. Just like Daddy, right, Harry?"

"What do you know about my dad?" He asked. He wanted to know what that stick was, what a Gryffindor was, and most importantly of all, _what they were going to do with him, _but his orphan instincts won out, in the end.

"He was so brave, and foolish. I remember him now, looking at you, but your eyes, Harry... Your eyes are your mother's, has anyone ever told you that? Yes, your worthless, Muggle mother's..."

"My mum wasn't worthless!"

"And what would you know, my dear?" Bellatrix taunted. "And in answer to your other question, we're going to help you. I don't turn my back on a promise like that, Harry; it's not in my... nature."

"How did you know my parents?" Harry whispered, looking up into the woman's eyes. The tables had turned so quickly. He knew he shouldn't have spoken, should have stayed silent, should've listen to his aunt and uncle, shouldn't have been born...

"I didn't know them personally until their death. You can learn so much about someone as you kill them."

"No," he said simply. "No, no you didn't..."

"Of course I did, Harry. Why would I lie?" Bellatrix smirked at him, lifting her hand and scratching his cheek lightly with a long nail.

"Why would you kill them?" Harry shot back, standing up now, not wanting to remain powerless sitting on a curb in Surrey, no matter how defenceless he was - he didn't even have a stick.

"Because they got in the way, of course. I killed your father first. He tried to put up a good fight, but he was defenceless, you see. Such a shame... he had such talent. And your mother - your mother was _so easy, _I almost believe she was a Muggle rather than a Mudblood. She begged me not to kill you, begged me to take her life before yours. I complied, of course, but in a rather... _unusual _fashion.

"We captured her, and you, you see. She couldn't deal with the torture. She killed herself. How pathetic." She sneered and spat at the ground.

"_Don't talk about my parents like that!"_

Across the streets, car horns sounded and lights blared and all the streetlights shattered. The shortest and heaviest of the men, who had been silent thus far, let out a scream and doubled over, blood streaming from his mouth.

Harry ran.

He ran down the street, into a forgotten alleyway and out through the other end. He took a left, another left and carried on through town until he reached Spinnet End, where no one would bother him.

"Oh, Harry, don't you want to play with us?" A voice called out into the afternoon air. Harry's blood froze and he took off running again, through the park and past the warehouses.

"You. Pettigrew. _Get him." _

The man Harry had unwillingly attacked appeared at the end of the street. Literally just _appeared _out of nowhere. He had obviously been well looked after, but his blonde hair was receding prematurely and the lines around his eyes crinkled when he sneered.

"Please," Harry begged as the man - Pettigrew, Bellatrix had called him - appeared again, nearer this time. "I'm just a kid."

"So was I," Pettigrew murmured, "but whoever said that everyone has a choice has never met Bellatrix."

And then the man was right in front of him, and he gripped his forearm tightly, in the same place as Bellatrix had done. Harry yelped, and tried to tear himself away. Before he could, there was a tug in the pit of his stomach. And he screamed.

He saw the wreckage disappear from sight, but the image of the half destroyed street stayed in his mind even as he threw up over a white tiled floor that had appeared.

"Welcome, Patient 7," a robotic female voice that Harry would come to hate spoke loudly in the room. "Administering Chip #7 now..."

There was a jab in his right arm and Harry whimpered from the pain.

"Patient 7: tracked."

"Now, Harry," Bellatrix's voice echoed loudly, making him wince. Suddenly, one of the walls of the white room disappeared to reveal a small, grey room. "We're going to play a little game. The aim is to be out of control, to let your power loose. We are going to play until you lose. Are you ready?"

Harry shook his head, because _no, _he was _not _ready, and who could be ready for this?

"Such a shame," she repeated, then flicked her wrist that was still holding her wooden stick. She pointed it at Harry, and metal ropes twisted around his wrists. He was levitated to a table in the centre of the room, and tied there. The grey room and Bellatrix disappeared from sight, leaving the blank white wall. Harry struggled against his restraints.

"Test 1A, commencing in three... two... one..."

* * *

I'm guessing you want a few more details into this AU, don't you? Read on, Potterheads, read on!

Voldemort (Tom Riddle) was never born; therefore Harry was not the Chosen One. However, the Death Eaters were still formed under the reign of Bellatrix, who killed James and captured Lily and Harry. Lily, in her grief, killed herself after two weeks in hope that Harry would be saved.

Harry was rescued by Sirius, who was eventually framed by Peter Pettigrew for the murder of Lily, James and Peter himself. He didn't turn into a rat, but stayed by Bellatrix' side for the next ten or so years. Harry was sent to the Dursleys by Dumbledore.

About seven years later, however, Bellatrix and her gang started to discover children across the country who were developing special talents alongside their magical abilities. They captured these children of different ages, and in current time, there are over fifty "patients".

And I think you're up to date! There will be more info in the next chapter... Please review and so on, and the next update should be up in a week or so. Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you to **autumngold**, **Breathing** **January**, and of course, **rainydaydreams**! Here is the next chapter, for you guys. He get to meet some of the other patients, and their powers will be revealed in the next chapter, which will also be longer and a lot more action-y!

Good luck!

* * *

"Good news, Harry!"

Harry winced from the corner of the white room he had lived in for the past three years. The only person left that never called him 'Patient 7' was Bellatrix Lestrange, the head of the program. And one terrifyingly insane witch to boot.

He turned towards her from where she stood in the grey room, and raised an eyebrow. She sighed. "Come now, Harry, we aren't going to have this argument again, are we? I really do hate falling out with you."

"Funny. I'd love to see you fall out. Out of a window, maybe..." Harry mused sarcastically.

"Now, now," Bellatrix taunted, pressing a button that made the ever-present metal cuffs around his wrists give him an electric shock, "play nice, Harry. And why don't you congratulate me?"

"Congratulate you?" He scoffed, standing up shakily and rubbing his wrists. "What for? Winning the Best Insane Bitch of the Year Award?"

"That was hold months ago, Harry, do keep up," she joked, giving that damn button another press. Harry jerked and fell back down onto the white floor. "And of course you should congratulate me. I've finally won, you see. I. Have. Won."

"_Now, Harry. We're going to play a little game. The aim is to be out of control, to let your power loose. We are going to play until you lose. Are you ready?" _

Harry pulled himself out of the memory.

"For three years, Harry, you've been training yourself; fighting against your power so that we won't _use _you. So that I won't win. Ever since that first session, you held it in. I was quite impressed, dear. I bet you can even scream, now, and nothing will even break. But you see, we've found your weakness."

"Light," he whispered, remembering the most recent test. He got the day off after that. He should have realised why.

"Yes!" Bellatrix called gleefully, clapping her hands together.

"What are you going to do with me?" he asked, clutch the wall with one hand whilst the other braced itself against the floor so that he could struggle to his knees.

"You've heard of our main project, haven't you, Harry? About the people who are the same as you, in this very building?" Harry nodded. They had goaded him, talking about the other patients who didn't have torture sessions, but had proper lessons to learn to use their power, and to use their wands.

He didn't have a wand.

He had been taken to Ollivander's, thrown in by Bellatrix and instructed not to say a word. A wand had chosen him. Bellatrix had that wand now. Phoenix feather core, it was. Beautiful, Harry had thought.

"You're going to join them."

Harry's head shot up. Join them? But he was a special case; Bellatrix's own personal weapon. He was just Patient 7.

"Don't look so shocked, Harry dear! We _promised, _after all." Her smile became wider, and she leaned closer towards Harry, the wall still separating them. "You'll be taught spells. You'll be taught how to use your power. You'll be with people your own age who went through the same things you did." Bellatrix laughed humourlessly, throwing her head back wildly. "Well, not _all _the same things, right Harry?"

"You're a sadistic bitch, Bellatrix," Harry growled at her, stepping forward angrily.

"Such language! What would Mummy say?"

He tried to release his power. It didn't come. He had contained it too deep inside himself now. Only that stupid _test _seemed to work now, and he had to overcome that too.

"See!" Bellatrix laughed gleefully, point gat his growing frustration. "You can't release it yet. The puppy's too well trained! Don't worry, darling. We'll soon fix that." She pressed the same button, twice, three times, until Harry was writhing on the floor. "Boys. Get him ready. It's time to present our _best student." _

"I'm not _yours! _I don't belong to _anyone!" _

"You're just Mummy's boy through and through, aren't you? Never mind, we'll soon fix that. And you're going to play nice, Harry, or it won't just be you in those handcuffs," she threatened with a smile.

Harry tensed. He remembered people from the start of the project, before he was locked away like a child sent to the naughty corner. They were nice to him. Sweet.

"_Harry, isn't it? Hello, Harry. We haven't seen you 'round here before. We're so sorry, but we're going to make it better. We're going to stick together, all of us. Harry, can you hear me? It's okay. Don't cry. We're going to help you."_

They were the same as him. And now they were in danger. Those sweet children who had held a stranger whilst the walls shook in time with his sobs, who were locked here, the same as him. One wrong step and they would all be dead.

"What do I have to do?"

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to finally introduce you to another of our students. He has dutifully been practising his control under... _special _conditions for a little while. It would do you well to give him a warm welcome, and a round of applause, please, for Patient 7, also known as Harry Potter. Isn't that right, Harry?"

Bellatrix Lestrange stood on her podium in the lunch hall, looking extremely smug and happy with herself. Harry sneered at her turned back and mimed strangling himself. To his surprise, a few of the other students laughed.

Realising that the ending of her speech was not a rhetorical question, Harry shook his head and gave a charming, silent smile when she turned towards him.

"No. Now, Harry, run along. Your classmates are already awaiting your arrival. That table... over... there..." Bellatrix pointed to the table furthest on the right. "There's no silly house nonsense, here. You're simply categorized by age. Isn't that nice?"

Harry glared at her, and she gave him a particularly hard push that almost made him stumble off of the stage. When he turned back, her wand was drawn. "Don't pick a fight with me, Harry dear. You're one of my best."

He headed towards the table where there was seat between a particularly bushy haired girl and a red-headed boy.

"Hello," Harry greeted softly. The entire table of around twenty people turned to stare at him - at least, the ones that weren't staring already. He blushed and ducked his head.

"You're Harry Potter," the bushy haired girl stated with interest. Harry looked at her questioningly; was he some sort of hero? He doubted it. Bellatrix would have already used that against him. "They say that you were the inspiration for this entire... project." She said the word with disgust.

"I was the first one they started to do... _tests _on," he explained, still in the same quiet murmur. He didn't trust his control completely. "That's probably why."

The girl suddenly smiled. "That's exactly what I thought. I didn't suspect that you performed experiments on yourself then handed yourself on a platter to Bellatrix." She glared at the red head on the other side of Harry. "I'm Hermione Granger. Muggleborn."

"Come on, Hermione, don't you think it sounded a bit dodgy?" The boy argued. He sent a cheery smile Harry's way, and stuck out his hand. "Ron Weasley, by the way. I'm not as bad as she insists."

Harry gave a light laugh and shook his hand.

"We're all in - well, what would be our fourth year. Purebloods, halfbloods, Muggleborns, we're all here, whether we like it or not," a girl opposite Ron told him. "Daphne Greengrass. Non-blood traitor pureblood, unlike _some _people." Daphne pointed at Ron, who snorted.

"Does anyone actually like it?" Harry asked, ignoring the blood traitor comment. From his time in 'solitary confinement' he had learnt the bare minimum about the main program Bellatrix was running, but he knew a lot of it was torture.

"He does," an Irish boy said from the other side of Ron, jabbing his finger at a blonde haired boy at the end of the row. "I'm Seamus Finnigan, halfblood and lovin' it." He winked at a girl opposite him.

"Why?" Harry asked, craning his neck to get a good look at the boy. Someone had obviously attempted to slick his hair back with limited materials. It just ended up somewhat slimy.

"His name's Draco Malfoy, son of the masked guy standing next to Bellatrix, though I don't think either of them are exactly here for their own benefit," a slightly rounded boy said from one side of Daphne and opposite Harry. "I'm N-Neville Longbottom, pureblood. It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Neville," Harry replied warmly, shaking the hand offered to him. Something tapped his shoulder and he turned.

"Luna Lovegood," the girl behind him said airily, fiddling with a necklace. "You're very devoid of Nargles. What do you use?" Luna walked off before Harry could give an answer.

Needless to say, Harry was extremely confused.

"Oh, ignore her," Hermione interrupted his train of thought, sounding exasperated. "She's a year younger than us and completely insane. Her talent is to create delusions, and she's not exactly against creating them for herself, as well."

"Talent?" Harry echoed.

"Well, we can't exactly call them super powers," a black boy next to Neville put in, shaking Harry's hand firmly. Harry raised an eyebrow at the Muggle reference. "Dean Thomas. Muggleborn. I think, anyway."

"We all have 'talents', as they call them," Hermione explained, moving her hands in frantic gestures. "That's why we're here. After years of the same wizards, with no differences, we are the next generation of change, the next step in wizarding evolution. We've adapted."

"So, what can you all do?" Harry asked, interested. For three years, he had wondered if anyone was worse off than him; or better yet, if anyone was capable of doing good in the world.

The world needed people like that.

"Mine's somewhat boring," Hermione said apologetically. "I can access a bigger percentage of my brain power than most people, meaning I have quite a decent memory - most of the time, anyway - and can react quicker, think faster." She grinned sheepishly. "You get the idea. Not so great for crime fighting. Excellent for researching."

"It sounds great!" Harry put in. His memory was severely lacking. He couldn't even remember what he had for breakfast yesterday.

Oh, of course; he didn't have breakfast yesterday.

"What about you guys?"

The girl opposite Seamus waggled her finger at him and tutted. "No. Nope. You are _not _going to figure us out that easily, Harry Potter." She gave a wolfish smile and laughed rowdily, and the Asian girl diagonally across from her joined in. "I'm Lavender Brown."

"And I'm Parvati Patil," the other girl added.

"And I'm Parvati's twin, Padma," yet another girl next to Seamus chimed in.

Harry mentally did a list of the people who had introduced themselves so far, and came up short on about half of them. Hermione smiled at him.

"In our "year", there're seventeen of us. We're the biggest. Most have about eleven in them, not including first year and fifth year, which only have eight."

"Seventeen?" Harry repeated. That was a large number. Had all of them developed these... powers? Had all of them been found?

"I know. In Hogwarts - you know Hogwarts, don't you?" Harry nodded. He had been allowed a rare bookcase two years ago. Hogwarts: A History had been among the selection. "Well, there's an average of forty students per year. _Forty. _We're... we make up almost half of that," Hermione told him soberly.

"Enough depressing conversation with Hermione I-Have-No-Brain-Limits Granger, Harry! You need to meet everyone else!" The blonde girl, Lavender, said cheerfully with a glare at Hermione.

Though Harry could "meet everyone else" by just looking down the table, he complied. Lavender clapped her hands.

"Okay, down the end here is where the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs have taken refuge - _well, _people who _might've _been in Slytherin or Hufflepuff if they were taken before Hogwarts."

"What House were you in?" He asked politely as Lavender's cheerful bouncing stuttered to a stop.

"Gryffindor." She smiled sadly. "I was only there for two terms before I was "kidnapped" by Bellatrix and her goons, or Death Munchers, as we like to call them." Harry let out a quiet laugh at that; a few others on the table joined him.

"But anyway, we have Hannah next to Padma and Susan next to Parvati." The two girls waved. "Then Ernie and Anthony, who was a Ravenclaw, but he doesn't get on with Padma, the only other Ravenclaw in our year, so he mainly stays down with the 'Puffs. Then the Slytherins, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy." The three Snakes in question scowled in Lavender's direction when they heard their names. "Daphne was a Slytherin as well, but she prefers the Gryffindor blood traitors down our end," Lavender finished jokingly.

"So you're the famous Harry Potter," Draco drawled.

"I don't see anyone else round here that qualifies," Harry snapped back, still quiet, but somewhat confused by this retort.

"No?" He asked in mock-surprise. "I'm surprised you can see anything at all, you're so blinkered. There's no such thing as good and bad, Potter." Harry raised an eyebrow at this; was it normal for someone to be so hostile when meeting new people?

He supposed it was just the Malfoy charm.

"People say there's no such thing as a cheesy philosophical retort, but I suppose people can be wrong."

"We'll see who's wrong, Potter." Draco smirked, and stood up. Pansy followed obediently, and Blaise stretched up from his seat, looking like a panther unfurling from its sleep. "Til then, though..." He flicked his wrist, and suddenly Harry was _so tired. _He fell to the floor, clutching the table as the people around him shouted angrily at Draco who, from what Harry could see, practically waltzed from the room.

"That... went well," he breathed, standing up slowly.

"Are you alright, Harry? I'm so sorry about him. Here, let me help..." Hermione murmured, more to herself than Harry, he was guessing. She muttered a few charms with her pretty wand, and the weight that felt as though it had been pressing on the back of his head lightened and he smiled gratefully at her."Thanks, Hermione," Harry whispered weakly, not trusting himself to speak louder; self defence mechanism and all that.

"No problem." She smiled broadly.

"Guys, our timetables are bein' announced! Get ya head on, Granger!" Seamus called from the other side of the table. Harry looked up.

"Would Patient 1 and Patient 32 please come to the front," Bellatrix said softly from the table at the front of the hall. Slowly, Hermione looked up and sighed wearily, twitching her fingers. A small boy walked up to the platform.

"Patient 1, get up here_ now!" _The blonde man beside Bellatrix roared. Hermione shot up, rubbing her neck as she did so. She hurried to the table, and was handed a few sheets of paper. She flipped through them quickly, barely glancing at the words before she moved on to the next one.

"What's she doing?" Harry asked Ron, who was now standing up after the confrontation with Draco Malfoy.

"Hermione always collects our year's timetables for the term," Ron answered, sounding distracted as he tapped an abstract rhythm with his foot. "She can memorize them, you see. She's their personal filing cabinet." The last sentence was said bitterly.

"Oh."

"Yeah, _oh," _Ron sighed. "I mean, it's good here. We could all be in cages. But they manipulate us, twist us..." He rubbed his face with her hand. "We're their weapons. Not people. We have patient numbers, not names."

"I've got them," Hermione said, sitting back down at the table, looking more than a little worse for wear.

"And? What classes have they put us in this year?" Neville asked, leaning forwards with concern in his hazel eyes. Harry sent a questioning look Neville's way. "They try out different "classes" each year, plus the usual core classes. One year, it was done by patient number. Another was how strong you were. We're stuck in that class, with that teacher, until the end of the year."

He nodded calmly, then looked back at Hermione, whose face had a set, determined look about it.

"We're all in OWL class now," she muttered, closing her eyes. "Patients 6, 7, 8, 15, 16, 19, 21, 22, 23 and 25: Defence class. Patient 3, 7, 12, 15 and 20: Combat class. Patients 2, 5 and 6: Stealth class. Patients 8 and 18: Interrogation class. Patients 1 and 18: Intelligence class. High Stimulus Class: Patients 1, 2, 3, 6, 7 and 8. Medium Stimulus Class: Patients 5, 12, 15, 16, 18, 19 and 23. Low Stimulus Class: Patients 20, 22, 21 and 25. There will be two specialist classes, one stimulus class, three core classes and one year group meeting per day. All patients must attend year group meetings and core curriculum classes."

"This'll be interesting, lads," Seamus commented, rubbing his hands together. "Defence class - I like the sound o' that."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Daphne said, mock-sincerely, "You and Terrahawk over there almost have your own private intelligence lesson. Poor Parkinson might break a nail trying to read _your _mind."

"Poor Padma and Harry, they have Malfoy in every single one of their lessons," Dean shivered. "I don't know why I'm in Defence, though. My power's almost the worst out there."

"Your power's great, Dean!" Padma interjected from the other end of the table. "I'd love to be able to do what you do."

"Which is...?" Harry asked, giving Dean a sly smile.

"Nope! You're finding out nothing 'til Group tomorrow, Harry. We'll all, um, _demonstrate _for you then." Ron winked. "Oh, and Group is just what we call our year group meeting. But from your expression, I'll guess that you already figured that out..." He trailed off sheepishly, and gave Harry a grin.

"That's okay," he reassured with a small, answering grin.

"So we're back on track for the year," Lavender said, tapping a strangely long, pointed nail against her chin, "and we've got a new recruit. And OWLs. This doesn't make for a great situation, guys."

"Oh, stop being so morose, Lav," Seamus said jauntily.

"I'd like to hear you disagreeing with her by the end of the week, Seamus," Neville put in, nudging Dean with a wink.

Then, Anthony, the Ravenclaw-turned-Hufflepuff, leant back, and called out Harry's name. Harry turned, and gave him a slightly confused - which seemed to be his most common emotion today - smile. "Don't worry," Anthony said, turning round to face Harry properly. The side of his neck appeared to be harshly cut and sewn in _metal_. "You'll get used to it all. I guarantee that by Sunday's Group you'll have fitted right in."

Anthony;s last smile before turning away seemed somewhat sad.

* * *

Okay. Here's the drill: There're six classes a day, the core classes of which aren't all that important - you know the basics of Transfiguration, right? - so we'll mainly be focussing on the specialist classes - Combat, Defence, Stealth, Interrogation and Intelligence - the stimulus classes, which are how powerful you are/how well you can control your power - High, Medium, Low - and finally, the year group meeting, which is held at the end of each day.

You'll learnt the patient numbers in time - the only three you _really _need to know is Hermione - Patient 1, Harry - Patient 7, and Draco - Patient 8. Draco's a moody bastard, isn't he?

THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE MORE EXCITING. I PROMISE FIRE.

Review?


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